


lights out, still glowing

by paravin



Series: last to see the light [1]
Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Abuse, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-16 03:48:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28700175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paravin/pseuds/paravin
Summary: Four times Glint wasn’t sure of the right thing to say (and one time he was).
Relationships: The Crow & Glint (Destiny)
Series: last to see the light [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2180733
Comments: 15
Kudos: 60





	lights out, still glowing

**Author's Note:**

> honestly just needed to get this out of my system because the Crow storyline this season destroyed me. also I love Glint and he's doing a good job
> 
> please do heed the tags, as this does contain explicit noncon (ft. Spider) and fairly heavy violence/temporary death

“What did I do?”

It was a hunter this time, a white-eyed exo who slipped a knife through the Lightbearer’s spine when he was retrieving ammo from a Fallen corpse. The ghost hadn’t even seen her approach, just heard a cry of pain and watched his friend fall. 

The resurrection is almost as quick as the death but there’s a new wariness in his gold eyes when his Lightbearer looks up at him for answers he can never give.

“That was… before,” the ghost says firmly. “It wasn’t you.”

“Wasn’t it?” the Lightbearer asks. “Because it definitely feels like I’m the one people keep killing.”

The ghost squirms a little. “They don’t know you,” he says. “Not the real you, at least. They’re just confused.”

“Confused,” his Lightbearer repeats. He stumbles a little as he rises to his feet, one hand going to his back where the hunter’s blade severed his spinal cord. “They seemed fairly certain when they beat me to death. Or shot me in the head, or broke my neck, or-”

“Stop.” The ghost’s shell contracts in a shudder and he moves to float at the Lightbearer’s shoulder as he pleads, “They just don’t understand that you’re not him. You’re a good person — they’ll come around some day.” 

The Lightbearer’s shoulders sag. He’s never been especially talkative, even when the ghost brought him back for the first time, but it’s been painful to watch him retreat further into himself at every rejection and assault. Even those who haven’t tried to kill him have scorned him, with something as simple as stopping for fuel ending with his Lightbearer being sneered at or spat on.

The ghost expected some of it, given his Lightbearer’s past, but he wasn’t prepared for it to be this bad, or for it to hurt so much to watch.

He bumps his shell against the Lightbearer’s shoulder and tries to keep his tone light when he says, “Maybe we should get you a helmet.”

The Lightbearer doesn’t answer, his gaze fixed on the pool of his own blood on the ground. 

The ghost doesn’t try to speak again.

———

Glint’s gaze is fixed on the broken mess of his Lightbearer’s ribcage when he hears the voice from above him.

“Why him?”

He met Perrin before, a long time ago. He can’t help but feel like things were easier then, when they were both still searching for their Guardians, rather than now, when Perrin’s Guardian has just emptied six shotgun rounds into his Lightbearer’s chest.

“You searched for so long,” Perrin says, her voice somewhere between pitying and judgmental. “Of all the bodies you found, did you have to pick that filth?”

Glint’s light flares in irritation. “You don’t know him.”

“I know what he did,” Perrin counters. “Everyone does. You had thousands — _millions_ — of potential Guardians to raise and you choose a traitor and a murderer?”

“He isn’t that person anymore,” Glint says. “You know that. He came back as a clean slate. They all do.”

Perrin doesn’t bother to hide the disgust in her tone. “There’s nothing clean about him. Not with the amount of blood on his hands.”

“He doesn’t remember!” Glint snaps. “For all he knows, your Guardian just murdered him for no reason. He isn’t the monster here.”

Perrin zooms closer to him, shell rotating in fury. “Monster? After what he put the Vanguard through, my Guardian would be justified in doing far worse.” 

Her top plate pulls back in a sneer. “He might not remember, but you do. You saw what that piece of shit did to the Shore, to the Awoken, to _Cayde_ , and you brought him back. You knew how much seeing him would pain every Guardian in the system, and you still chose him.” 

Her voice trembles a little as she backs off, nodding down to the corpse of Glint’s Lightbearer. “This? Everything that happens to him? This is your fault. Someone should have put you out of your misery decades ago instead of letting you give the Light to trash like him.”

Unable to find the words to respond, Glint drops his gaze back down to his Lightbearer’s body in shame.

With one final noise of disgust, Perrin spins in the air and swoops back across to where her Guardian is waiting on his sparrow. Neither of them give Glint or his Lightbearer a second glance as they depart and Glint is left alone once again.

He’s really, really tired of being alone.

———

Spider doesn’t hit Crow often.

The threat of it pours off him constantly, that big body brimming with anger and promised violence, but while Glint’s seen him lash out with fists or knives or bullets before, Crow is rarely on the receiving end of his impulsive strikes.

However, the pre-mediated ones are often worse.

Glint peeks around the edge of the door as Crow kneels before Spider’s throne. He’d been told to hide and as Spider’s guards step forward, arc-pikes raised, Glint starts to understand why.

He doesn’t catch what Spider’s saying, or what Crow’s being punished for this time, but he rears back in horror when, at the wave of Spider’s hand, one of the guards drives a pike through Crow’s side. Crow crumples, blood running down his side, but Glint can’t keep his light from dimming in fear when the guard buries the pike in the wound and twists something on the handle.

The arc energy crackles, lightning tearing through flesh, and Crow screams. 

He bucks, trying desperately to escape from the pain, but at Spider’s signal, the second guard drives his pike through Crow’s hand to pin him to the floor. That pike ignites too, arc energy coursing through Crow’s body, and Glint can only watch, horrified, as his Lightbearer arches in agony.

He thinks about flying in, driving one of his edges hard into Spider’s face in retribution, but common sense and Crow’s order keeps him in place. He’s pretty sure he’ll get a shock of his own if he even speaks up and so he can only hover, hidden and silent, as Crow’s voice gives out under the torture.

“Enough.”

The energy stops instantly, the buzz of the pikes replaced by Spider’s slow wheezes and Crow’s hitching sobs. He curls in on himself, bleeding and shivering, when the pikes are withdrawn and Glint glares angrily at Spider as their boss says, amused, “Well?”

“I-I’m sorry, Baron,” Crow chokes out. His voice is ragged and Glint’s amazed he’s stayed conscious as he looks up, still in a bloody heap at Spider’s feet. “It w-won’t happen again.”

“See that it doesn’t,” Spider says, relaxing back in his chair. “Now get out of my sight.”

To his credit, Crow tries to stand but his legs give way before he even makes it to his knees. The sniggers of Spider’s guards follow as he hauls himself out of the throne room with silent determination, leaving a trail of blood behind him, and Glint darts back out of the way to avoid being spotted. 

His shell clunks against the wall as he goes but by the time Crow makes it back to his workroom, he’s too far gone to notice Glint’s disobedience.

Glint hovers over him anxiously, inspecting the wounds and the likelihood of death or recovery. The right words fail him — he’s seen Crow hurt at Spider’s hands more times than he ever wanted to, and they both know that any promises of a better future are a lie.

Crow passes out before Glint can speak, and Glint lowers himself sadly to the ground besides him, ashamed at the relief that sparks inside him at being spared the need to talk.

———

Sometimes Glint forgets how big Spider is.

When he’s on his throne, he’s more a monument than a man — huge and intimidating but somehow distant — but here, crowded in among the pipes and scrap in Crow’s quarters, there’s no escaping how large he really is.

Crow is small beneath him, bent forward over his worktable and pinned beneath the bulk of Spider’s body as he fucks into him slowly. He looks almost fragile like this, his wrists bracketed by one of Spider’s broad hands, and when Spider runs a hand mockingly through Crow’s hair, Glint can’t help but think of how easily he could crush Crow’s skull.

He seems to have other priorities though, just as he does every time he comes to Crow’s quarters to sate his urges, and Glint tucks himself further behind the pipe with a glower. 

“That’s it, little bird,” Spider rumbles, pushing in deep enough to draw a gasp from Crow. “Be a good boy for me, won’t you?”

Crow doesn’t answer, cheek flat against the wood and lips pressed together. The gold gleam of his eyes locks onto Glint for a second before he looks away, cheeks darkening in shame, and Glint’s shell twitches in wordless apology. 

The last thing he wants to do is make this worse.

The first time Spider did this, he tried to intervene. He got knocked hard enough into the wall to crack his shell and could do nothing but watch as Spider took Crow by force. Afterwards, Crow had been more worried about the damage to Glint’s shell than about what had happened to him, and Glint resolved not to be a burden any longer.

Since then, he’d kept out of the way. He’d done some very disquieting research on Fallen anatomy, which only made him feel worse about what Crow was having to endure, but otherwise his contributions were limited to trying to make Crow feel better every time he limped for days afterwards. 

Spider’s grunts get louder, his thrusts knocking Crow’s hips hard enough against the table to leave bruises, and Glint doesn’t miss the way Crow grimaces when Spider’s claw rakes down his back.

“So stoic today,” Spider says, almost fondly. “You lightmongers certainly have your uses.”

Crow squeezes his eyes shut, and Glint fights to tamp down the burning anger at his core. He hates it here, hates the new weight of the explosives in his shell, hates the indignities Spider subjects Crow to daily, but he knows as well as Crow does that this is all they have. 

That doesn’t make the sight of Spider violating his only friend any easier to bear, and he flies closer, checking to make sure Spider’s distracted before zipping under the table. The grunts seem louder here, coupled with the noises of pain Crow is trying so hard to keep muffled, and Glint inches out from the other side of the table until he nudges against Crow’s limp fingers.

He feels Crow flinch at the contact, hand flexing in surprise, but with Spider’s hand locked around his wrists, he can’t pull away. His fingers curl around Glint’s shell, almost tight enough to hurt, and Glint feels the shudder that goes through Crow’s body when Spider comes with a groan.

Crow’s hands are shaking and Glint lets out a quiet hum to try to soothe him as Spider withdraws, slapping him on the back with one solid hand. “Such an obedient pet. Glad to see my little incentive is having an effect.”

Crow doesn’t answer, doesn’t even move from where he’s slumped against the table as Spider retreats back to his throne room, murmuring happily to himself. 

“He’s gone,” Glint whispers, pressing against Crow’s hand firmly before flying up to assess the damage. 

There’s no blood, thankfully, just a mess spilling down Crow’s thighs, and Glint loiters nervously at chest height when Crow hitches his pants back up and forces himself upright. 

His legs almost buckle, forcing him to grip the table for safety, and Glint beeps in concern. “Are you-”

“Don’t.” Crow’s face is pale now, gaze fixed on the floor, and he won’t look up at Glint when he says, “Please, Glint. Just don’t.”

Glint has precisely one hundred and six things he wants to say — from comfort to commiseration to curses — but as Crow limps to the bathroom to clean up, he does as requested and doesn’t voice any of them.

———

“They seem nice.”

Glint flits from shoulder to shoulder as Crow turns away from where their two new acquaintances are deep in conversation. 

“It’s a shame about Osiris’ ghost,” Glint continues. “I met her once, while I was looking for you. She was really smart. I guess you have to be, hanging out with someone like Osiris. Ooh, I wonder if he made her smart or if she made him smart?” He bumps against Crow’s shoulder. “Maybe hanging out with him will be educational for us too. I heard he knows so much about the Vex, and about time travel, and about pigeons-”

“We’re not hanging out with him,” Crow says. His expression is unreadable beneath his hood as he looks over to Osiris and the newcomer. “He’s injured. Without his ghost, he needs to return to the City to recover.”

Glint nods in agreement but then pauses, tilting to the left. “Wait, didn’t Spider tell us to bring him back to the Shore?”

Crow’s silence is as good as an answer and Glint’s plates lock in apprehension. “He’s going to be angry.”

“I know,” Crow says quietly. “I can handle it.”

“But last time he-”

“I can handle it.”

Glint recognises the attempt at shutting him down and pivots instead, glancing over at the Guardian beside Osiris. “Maybe the new person will come back with us. That might keep Spider happy. And it would be nice to get to spend some time with a fully fledged Guardian. Y’know…”

Crow finishes the thought for him. “Without them trying to kill me?”

Glint hums. “Maybe.”

“They recognise me,” Crow says, hesitant. “Osiris hid it better than his friend but I know that look. I disgust them.”

“They’re still here, aren’t they?” Glint says, hopefully. “Maybe these two are the ones who can look past whatever that person did before. I hear Osiris was never the most popular guy in the Tower either.”

“But he can still go there,” Crow says. There’s an edge to his voice, a wistfulness Glint hasn’t heard in months, as he murmurs, “He’s still a Guardian, even without a ghost, while I’m-”

He cuts himself off, turning away from the two Guardians as he fiddles with the edge of his cloak, and Glint follows at his shoulder. 

“You’re a Lightbearer,” he says, “and a hunter.” 

Crow’s eyes are cold. “And a pet and a slave?”

They’ve both heard Spider’s men talking behind their backs and while Glint can translate the things they call Crow, he was really hoping Crow hadn’t picked up that much of the language yet.

“You’re a Lightbearer,” he says again, forcefully. “That’s the important part. You might not be a Guardian but you’re doing good work on the Shore.”

“Killing who Spider tells me to kill?”

“Helping people,” Glint says, almost pleading. “You’re a good person, Crow. Other people will see that too, if you let them.” 

Crow shakes his head but Glint’s pleased to see the momentary hesitation there before he says, “I serve Spider. He won’t want me speaking to Guardians. I’ve already put you in danger just by talking to someone other than Osiris.”

“I’ll be fine,” Glint promises, wiggling his plates in demonstration. “I’m sure Spider cares more about getting his territory back than about who you talk to.” 

Osiris and the other Guardian break apart, apparently finished with their discussion, and Crow tenses as they begin to walk in his direction.

“It’s okay,” Glint whispers, perching on his shoulder. “You can do this. I mean, after what we’ve been through, what’s the worst that could happen?”

“Spider explodes you and this new Guardian kills me,” Crow says flatly, but Glint’s been around him long enough to recognise the hint of amusement in his voice. 

“Well, okay, yes,” he admits, “but anything better than that definitely counts as a win for us.” He looks up at him, light shining. “Just try it, okay? For me?”

Despite Crow’s palpable anxiety, that draws a tiny smile from him and Glint bounces proudly on his shoulder as Osiris and the other Guardian approach, giving him one final whisper of encouragement, “Eyes up.”


End file.
